


out of sight, out of mind

by ralphstatortots



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Collars, M/M, Puppy Play, yeaaaa. thats it. fraser is pupy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 03:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18731158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralphstatortots/pseuds/ralphstatortots
Summary: Fraser sits there and he laughs and drinks, and tries to forget the curling heat in his chest when he quietly writes down the website name into his notes app.He sits there and lets James ruffle his newly cut hair and call him‘good boy’while feeding him cold fries.He sits there and tries not to preen – no matter how complacent Fraser feels with himself – when he catches Alex watching them and giggling to himself.





	out of sight, out of mind

**Author's Note:**

> sorry im ignoring requests but all these things im writing for myself is self care sorry i dont make the rules. i just want fraser to eat a dog treat and this was the only reasonable way to make him do it
> 
> also i ignored fic until james’ instastory with the belt and i thot it was a slip leash. im sweating
> 
>  
> 
> title from fucking by frog

It’s confusing. Fraser’s drunk, embarrassed and confused. It’s funny, and outwardly, he’s laughing and he can’t stop making jokes about it. Inside he feels a burning hole in his chest, flames creeping up into his cheeks and staining them pink while James laughs and shoves his phone in his face.

It’s supposed to be a _joke_ , not something his drunken thoughts can twist into something out of somebody’s personal fantasy and empty his lungs. Maybe it’s _his own_ personal fantasy and he just hasn’t realised. Either way, it’s difficult to ignore the idea once it’s given to him.

Fraser doesn’t even know how James found it, if he’s honest. He doesn’t know how they got on this topic either, but he’s learnt to expect the sharp turns James and Alex can take, especially when drinks are involved.

So, he doesn’t say anything about it. Fraser sits there and he laughs and drinks, and tries to forget the curling heat in his chest when he quietly writes down the website name into his notes app.

He sits there and lets James ruffle his newly cut hair and call him ‘ _good boy_ ’ while feeding him cold fries.

He sits there and tries not to preen – no matter how complacent Fraser feels with himself – when he catches Alex watching them and giggling to himself.

Fraser doesn’t miss the way James calls him a good boy again when he fucks him later. He doesn’t miss the way James gets him on his knees and keeps him there, hand on his chest to keep him upright.

Fraser asks about it afterwards, but the other man dismisses it as just playing along with the joke – and that they’re drunk. Fraser hums in what he hopes sounds like agreement, but when James falls asleep, he’s on his phone and searching for the website he’d written down earlier. James doesn’t need to know if he has a parcel scheduled to be delivered next week.

* * *

It does arrive a week later, on the day he expects it, thankfully.

James is out, with friends for dinner or something; Fraser had only half-listened when he’d left, knowing that what he’d ordered a week prior was stuffed under his bedsheets and waiting for him.

He stares at it first. It’s a box, big enough that it fills up the width of his lap when he places it there. He hesitates when he holds his keys above the line of parcel tape, as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find in there. Fraser _knows_ what’s in it when he fucking _bought_ it.

That pushes Fraser to slide the jagged blade through the tape, knowing that he put his money on this, for James. Maybe himself too, but mostly for James. Only for James.

The nervous warmth in his chest travels up to his cheeks when he sees what’s beneath the cardboard flaps and styrofoam packing peanuts. It’s only the end of one of the items that he bought, peeking out from the packaging tauntingly. Fraser flinches when he pulls the items out and finds he can’t quite look at them yet. Instead, he places them on the bed and sits there trying not to let the embarrassed heat under his skin burn him alive.

Fraser thinks about calling James, telling him what he’s done, only to soothe the flustered warmth in his cheeks. But James is busy with other people and Fraser is alone in his room, alone with _that_.

“Fuck,” He mumbles to himself, pushing his glasses up to wipe his hands over his face, looking over through slightly fuzzy vision. All he has to do is look and then he can move forward. So he does.

They’re just...sat there, tauntingly. Fraser flushes again and sits up properly on his bed as he stares.

It’s a tail and matching ears, fashioned after a shiba inu’s appendages. It’s the ones James and Alex were laughing about last week, the ones he’d reluctantly laughed along at and bought not even two hours later.

He picks up the ears first, ruffling the fur with his thumb and then smoothing it down again. It’s surprisingly good quality too, alongside its impressive honey blonde appearance. Fraser tries not to stare too hard at it, otherwise he’ll just psyche himself out.

He takes them over to the full-length mirror on his bathroom wall, sliding one of the clips into his hair and making sure it stays put. After the other one is clipped in, he moves his head slightly to see if they stay. They do, and frankly, Fraser can’t help but admire them. They blend in nicely with his hair, a slight contrast between the colours that doesn’t bother him that much, surprisingly.

From his bathroom, Fraser can see the tail in its protective plastic on his bed. He catches himself biting his lip anxiously in the mirror, and shakes his head at himself. With one last glance at the ears, Fraser decides to just get it over with. It’s better than torturing himself.

The tail is the same colour as the ears; a blonde with strands of light brown mixed in. The underside is a lighter white, curling halfway to create a folding swirl in the shape. It’s fine until he spots the reflective metal plug at the other end, making him flustered all over again.

A part of him wishes for James again, aches for him to be here to walk him through it. Maybe he’d even do it _for_ Fraser, open him up for the tail and call him a good boy throughout.

It’s the motivation he needed, apparently, because Fraser soon finds himself on his knees and a single forearm, his other arm stretched over his back to slide lube-coated fingers into himself. He buries his face in his sleeve-covered arm with a gasp when his two fingers drive deep, making the muscles in his thighs jump when he harshly presses against his prostate.

Fraser’s reluctant to slide the fingers out when he’s loose enough to replace it with the tail plug. It’s daunting, looking at it now that he’s ready. But before he can think otherwise, he’s warming it up and coating it with lube, reaching back with both hands and face half-buried in the covers to slide it in.

It’s fucking _cold_ , is Fraser’s first thought. Cold enough that he almost regrets even trying to push it inside himself until it sinks in further, the beginning telltale signs of faux-fur from the curl starting to brush against his lower back. The plug sinks in finally, with a soft gasp leaving his lips and getting muffled in his sleeve.

Fraser tests the rim with his clean hand, feeling up the base and burying fingers into the soft fur of the tail. It’s _weird_ , like he’s grown an extra limb or something, and the tail moves with him whenever he moves in the slightest. He can’t deny he’s hard though, cock still covered by the front of his briefs.

Making sure the ears are still firmly intact in his hair, Fraser stands on wobbly legs to go back to the bathroom mirror. He pulls up his black briefs as far as they can go with the tail curving over his ass and lower back, adjusting his hoodie too before pulling his phone out the pocket.

It’s for James, this is. But Fraser can admit, as he stares at himself in the mirror, that this is for him too. He looks unabashedly good right now.

The first two photos are upper-body – of his ears and parted lips and flushed cheeks. The next four are of both the ears and the tail, where he grasps onto the edge of the counter to stick his ass out and show off the tail curled neatly behind him. Takes a selfie to show it off fully from the back, teasing a slow slip of his briefs down over his ass as he does, faintly exposing just where the tail is coming from. Pushes up the hem of his hoodie to expose his hips and stomach, takes it at an angle to get the tail in shot.

Next is to send them to James.

Fraser doesn’t know how well received they would be, especially with the added factor of James being in public – probably. He doesn’t know _where_ his boyfriend is, exactly.

But he opens up their text thread anyway, hesitating before sending the two upper body photos as a beginner.

 **Fraser**  
what do u think?

He says simply, looking back up at himself in the mirror as he sends it. There’s the fear settling in, of James being...disgusted? Amused? Fraser isn’t sure _what_ he’s thinking James could feel, but he’s hoping it’s nothing like that.

His phone buzzes in his hand.

 **James**  
what the fuck is that fraser  
are those dog ears?

 **Fraser**  
yeah lol  
what do u think?

The typing bubble appears and disappears a few times. Fraser can’t help but wonder what the other man is deleting.

 **James**  
very cute  
like an adorable little puppy x

Fraser feels a flush of pride in his chest, building up his throat and into his cheeks. He lets out a soft, choked noise when he catches eyes with himself in the mirror, looking back down at the words if only to avoid his own gaze.

 **Fraser**  
i have a tail too

 **James**  
a tail?  
like a clip on one??

 **Fraser**  
would u like to see?

James sends a thumbs up emoji in response, quick and easy. Fraser bites his lip as he sends a few of the _other_ photos, perhaps a little too indecent for viewing in public. Before he can think about what he’s done, he goes back and slumps over onto his bed in shame. The tail jostles slightly from the change of position, but Fraser ignores it and the gasp he can’t hold in when his phone buzzes again.

 **James**  
jesus christ fraser  
youre lucky i was on my way home

 **Fraser**  
what do you think?

 **James**  
i think i might want to fuck you senseless, fraser

It makes him heat up with something other than embarrassment. Fraser can’t help it; he exhales heavily and pushes down against the bed, mixing his next exhale with a soft moan when he repeats the movement.

 **Fraser**  
will you?

He follows it up with the other pictures he took, more exposing as they go on. He can only hope James is serious and isn’t just playing around, not when he’s already so desperate.

 **James**  
yeah i will  
god you look so good  
can you wait a bit longer for me? i need to pick some things up

 **Fraser**  
you want me to be good??

 **James**  
yeah i do  
can you be a good boy for me, fraser?

Fraser can’t help another soft moan clawing out its way out his throat, too loud in a room that’s too empty. He texts a quick confirmation back and tosses his phone aside, pushing his hips down onto the bed. The tail curves upwards whenever he does, the plug pushing against the rim of his hole and making weak gasps fall from his lips.

He wants James here, needs him here. He wants to hear he’s been good, that he _is_ good, for James. He wants James here more than anything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he thinks.

Which is exactly what he gets after a short while. Fraser hears the door click open, keenly aware of James carrying a plastic bag too.

He gets up to greet the man, walking quietly out his room to find James unpacking a few things in the kitchen. He doesn’t get a chance to see it properly though, because James turns and makes a soft noise at the sight of him.

“Hi, Fraser,” James greets him, eyes darting from the ears atop his head to his lips. “How’s my good boy?”

Fraser lets out a whine low in his throat, unstoppable. “I’ve been good – waiting for you.” He says, sinking into the heat of James’ palm cupping his jaw, lips finding his and fingers threading through his hair, nudging the ears slightly.

“I got you some things,” James tells him when they pull apart, “If you want them?”

Fraser nods, trying to peer around him to look at the counter at what he bought. He’s stopped by a hand on his jaw again, a thumb smoothing over his lip. “Wait, okay? Patience,” James hums with a soft smile. “Go wait in your room.”

Fraser is scared to go – scared that he’s going to miss something now that James is here. But he nods and does as he’s told anyway, making sure to walk in a way that makes the tail move a bit more. He wants James to notice it, to notice everything.

So he waits in his room, perched on the edge of his bed, hearing the rustle of the plastic bag down the hallway. He thinks about what it could be that James has, and comes up blank.

“You have to be good to have this, okay?” James says as he comes in suddenly, hands behind his back and looking far too pleased with himself. “I know you’ve been good, you always are. Can you keep being good for me?”

Fraser nods far too fast, eager to know what it is. James sits at the end of the bed, making sure to angle it so he can’t get a good look at what he has. He gestures to the floor between his knees, humming when Fraser complies easily. He keeps his hands on his own knees and parts his lips temptingly, leaning into James’ hand when it reaches down.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty,” James sighs and leans down to kiss him again, “I knew you would be in them, as soon as I saw these that night. They suit you so well, love.”

Fraser whines again, reaching a hand to paw uselessly at James’ knee. “What do you have?”

“You want to see?” James offers, and Fraser nods. “You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to. Just thought you might like it.”

Fraser’s breath hitches at the words; he can’t stop the assumptions he has when he hears them, going dizzy at the thought. James reaches behind him and pulls out what can’t be mistaken for anything else, making Fraser’s chest instantly go tight.

It’s a collar, a smooth leather with the colour of oak brown and darker accents along the trimming. It makes him swallow heavily, looking up at James’ face when the man takes it out its packaging.

“You want it?” He asks, voice soft and gentle. It’s an offer, one Fraser could back out of, but he doesn’t. He wants it.

Fraser nods, letting the other man guide him up onto his knees fully and tilt his head back, throat exposed. He lets James slide it around his throat, buckling it up and slipping two fingers between his neck and the collar to test its grip. He hums when James’ hand pulls back, and the sound dully reflects across his neck, revertabrating thick and heavy thanks to the collar.

“You looks so pretty,” James tells him, fingers wandering over his jaw, “It suits you so well, pup.”

A keen instantly builds in Fraser; he feels like he could burn alive, consumed by thoughts of _wanting_ and _needing_ and everything else he can’t think of – can only feel it every time he breathes.

“James,” He murmurs softly, biting at his lip while he settles back down onto his knees, trying to ignore the mirroring movement of the plug inside him. “James, please.”

“Please what, pup?” James hums, reaching behind him again for something else. It’s small, hidden beneath his fist. “Do you want a treat, for being so good?”

Fraser nods again, unsure of whether to look at James or the fist containing his treat. “Paw,” James says simply, holding out his hand. Fraser obliges and places his hand in the other man’s.

“Good boy,” James looks pleased, proud almost. It makes him flush with it too, high in his cheeks. “Are you excited?”

Fraser makes a humming noise of agreement, curling his fingers around James’ palm.

“Can you show me?” James asks, and it’s not obvious what he’s asking for. But as Fraser watches him, eyes expectantly waiting and straying to the tail behind him, he gets it. He leans up with his hands on James’ knees, arching his back and swaying his hips gently to make the tail move in a mock-wagging motion. James looks pleased again, reaching down to kiss Fraser again.

“Good boy, such a good boy.” He tells him, fingers twisting in his hair, tracing the edge of the ears. “You want your treat?”

Fraser nods and James’ fist unfurls, revealing a small bone-shaped biscuit. He instantly feels unsure about it, about eating a fucking _dog treat_ , until James speaks up again.

“They’re safe, for people.” He says reassuringly, thumb wiping at nothing at the corner of his mouth, tracing the edge of a bitten-red lip. “I made sure they are for you. Do you want it?”

Fraser hesitates, but he knows he wants to be good. He trusts James here, trusts him more than anybody. So he hums and nods, letting James coax his mouth open and feeding him the treat. It’s a simple wheat biscuit, tasting faintly like banana and peanut butter, and Fraser hums again as he chews.

“Was that good?” James asks when he swallows.

Fraser makes a soft noise and makes his tail wag again. “Thirsty,” He mumbles up at the man, looking over at his desk at his bottle of water. He whines lowly when James leaves to get it, but feels a sense of accomplishment when he opens the lid and offers to help him drink it.

It’s slow and careful upturns of the bottle. James is cautious about not making Fraser choke from too much water at once, wiping at his wet mouth and murmuring about how good he is as he drinks.

“Want you,” Fraser gasps when he pulls back from the bottle for the final time. “Want t’be good for you.”

“You’re already good for me, pup.” James puts the bottle aside and squints down at him, wiping a line of water fell down his neck that stopped at the collar. “What do you want, Fraser?”

“Want you,” Fraser repeats, huffing out of embarrassment, “I want you in my mouth, want to be good.” He says a bit too quickly, eager to get the words out as he reaches for James’ belt.

“God,” James groans, nudging away his hands to stand from the bed. He undoes the belt for him and curves fingers over his jaw, pressing fingertips into the softness of his cheek. “You’re so good for me, such a good pup.”

Fraser keens once more and helps pull James’ jeans down to his thighs, both hands grasping at the bulge in his boxers. He’s desperate, for anything the other man will give him, and Fraser could cry thinking of James stopping him now. But he doesn’t; he lets Fraser pull down his boxers, wrap a hand around him, stick his tongue out to the head teasingly.

“Christ, you’re going to fucking kill me.” James huffs out softly, hand finding his hair and being careful to avoid disturbing the ears. Fraser hums and wraps his lips around James’ cock, only briefly worrying about his glasses before James sighs and guides his cock further into his mouth.

The fingers in his hair travel down, pushing into his cheek before moving farther down onto his neck. They skirt around the edge of the collar, dip beneath it and tugging, making Fraser whine wantonly.

Fraser pulls back panting, hand absently stroking James while he looks up at the man. He wants to be good for him, needs to be good. James exhales softly as if he knows what Fraser’s thinking, sitting back on the bed and tugging the collar until he follows up into his lap.

“I don’t deserve a good boy like you,” Fraser makes a sound of disapproval at that, pushing his hips down onto James’ lap. “You’re so perfect, Fraser, so good. Do you want to show me your tail?”

Fraser heats up, pink staining his cheeks quickly as he nods. He lets James guide him out his lap until he’s facedown in the middle of the bed, turning to look back at the other man and gently swaying his hips. The tail curves and shakes with him, the fur brushing against his back.

James doesn’t say anything and instead chooses to push his hoodie up, running a hand down Fraser’s back. He stops at the hem of his briefs and tugs them down, helping Fraser out of them, the hand returning to his cheek and spreading it, making him gasp when fingers skirt around the rim of his hole.

“It suits you so well, pup,” James hums approvingly, fingers twisting around the base of the plug. “It looks gorgeous in you.” Fraser pushes back against the man’s hands eagerly, wanting his touch more than anything.

A whine escapes him when James starts to slowly pull out the tail – from the loss or the thought of what James is going to do to him, he isn’t sure.

“James, please,” Fraser begs, moaning softly when the plug is gone and leaving him empty. “Please.”

“Please, what?” The other man huffs a laugh and sinks two fingers into Fraser easily, curling them and making him push back on them. “Does puppy want to be fucked?” Fraser chokes a sound out, nodding into his arms.

James keeps him like that for a moment, spread open and fingers speared deep, gasps falling from him each time they curl into his prostate. But then the fingers are soon gone, replaced by the cap of the lube opening and James exhaling heavily.

When James sinks into him, pushing into him until he bottoms out, it’s like relief has melted into Fraser’s bones and made him sink into the bed. James’ hands push against his back, coaxing his shoulders down fully until he’s pressed flush with the covers with only his knees for leverage.

“God, Fraser,” James groans above him, rolling his hips into him. “Fuck, you’re so good, you’re my good boy.”

“I’m your good boy,” Fraser repeats, reaching a hand down between his legs to fist at his cock. He doesn’t know how he’s waited this long to touch himself when he’s usually impatient, but he wants to be good. He _is_ good.

A hand on his back moves to his collar, tugging at the back of it until Fraser’s pulled up onto his hands too, the leather pushing insistently against his throat. He feels like the breath is knocked out of him with each push of James’ hips into him, with each gasp that somehow escapes him, despite the more restricting tightness of the collar.

“James,” Fraser sobs, pushing back as best he can against the man, tightening his fist around his own cock. “James, fuck, I can’t–”

“You’re my good boy, Fraser,” James pants and lets his upper body sink back into the bed, fingers still tightly curved around the collar. “You’re my good puppy, aren’t you?” He asks and twists his free hand in Fraser’s hair, fucking into him roughly enough that the ears start to lose their grip on his hair.

“I’m your good puppy, your good boy,” Fraser sobs into the bed, frames of his glasses digging painfully into his cheekbones, collar leaving tight lines around his throat. He moans loudly when James pulls at his hair, tugging his head back until his mouth finds James’, gasping into his mouth with every thrust.

He comes fast into his own fist, spilling over his knuckles and tightening around James. The other man groans into his mouth and pulls back, pushing against his shoulders until he’s back against the bed and being fucked senseless. James’ mouth finds his neck, biting above the edge of the collar and panting hotly into his skin.

James doesn’t last long either, pulling out before coming on Fraser’s back with a heavy groan that Fraser feels all the way in his fingertips. He whines when James goes lax behind him, trying to get up on his elbows without getting any mess anywhere.

“Can you clean me up?” Fraser asks softly, looking back at James. “Please?”

“‘Course,” James nods, standing to go into the bathroom and getting a towel. He hums as he cleans up Fraser’s back and then his hand, pressing kisses to his upper back and pulling up his briefs as he does. “You were so good for me, Fraser.”

Fraser hums contentedly in response, reaching up into his hair to unclip the ears. James helps him undo the collar, rubbing his thumb over the lines it left on his throat soothingly.

“Put ‘em in the box,” Fraser murmurs, passing over the tail to James. “Keep ‘em safe – for another time.” He laughs tiredly when James groans about being a tease, happily letting the other man gather him up in his arms and kiss him, fingers threading through his hair.

“My good boy,” James hums against his mouth, “My good boy.” He says again, hands pressing into his hips and eyes soft as he looks down at Fraser. Despite feeling the slight tinge of egotism, Fraser thinks he could get used to this – being James’ good boy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my 50th work on ao3 lol mad


End file.
